


Quicksilver

by estuarie



Series: Quicksilver [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Ulmo/Ossë, Casual Sex, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estuarie/pseuds/estuarie
Summary: Melkor is a hedonist, Ossë is a brat, and Mairon is suffering.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Ossë, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon/Ossë, Ossë/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Quicksilver [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044606
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Quicksilver

Mairon cannot have Melkor for himself and he knows this. He hates his attraction to this flighty creature, this Vala of _utter chaos_ , and even more he hates it that he feels stupidly possessive over the douchebag, because he knows that Melkor is ready to give his attention to whoever he happens to fancy that day.

But this, this is a starker reminder than most.

Ossë seems nothing if not utterly pleased with himself as their eyes meet over the river bank, and the next roll of his hips onto Melkor's prick is deliberate and showy. His sea-green hair is as long as he himself, it seems, and his black eyes slip shut as he moans. Pearly white incisors clutch his bottom lip. Melkor moves his hips up, perfectly following the change in rhythm because _of course he does_ , he is just that perfect. Ossë, on top of him, seems crude and disorderly. He always does, really, but it's particularly heightened by the sight of the beautiful Vala beneath him. He is doing all the work and Melkor has his arms loosely crossed behind his head, simply observing the unruly Maia.

Ossë leans down and Mairon is sure he knows what is whispered into Melkor's ear because he can hear the laugh, and then Melkor looks behind, straight into Mairon's eyes.

And he dares to grin.

Mairon snarls and though he would have earlier just put his hand on his cock to relieve the pressure and have a slightly shameful wank in the bushes, now he squeezes his hands into fists and keeps them firmly against his sides. He will _never_ give Melkor the satisfaction of seeing him bring himself off to the scene. Ossë sees his reaction and laughs, and the river water rises and splashes them. Melkor cries out and Ossë laughs harder, pulling more water over them until they are soaked. Then he raises himself up onto his knees, groaning as Melkor slips out of him, and stands.

"We have a friend, do we?" his melodious voice asks. It's the way he sounds when he is glad -- if he is angry, the tone is completely different, harsh and thunderous. He pulls Melkor up and clothes materialize on his body, seemingly out of the water soaking them both, but not much of them. He stalks closer to Mairon.

Mairon stands still, even as Ossë towers over him, and refuses to look away. The other Maia is tall, way too tall, and big-headed enough without being flattered with deference.

Melkor breaks the battle of wills -- he seizes Ossë's hair and pulls his face up to reveal the perfect column of his throat to Mairon's eyes.

"Aren't you interested in the least, precious little flame?" he asks softy, smoothly, and Mairon shakes beneath the power of that tone. "There is no shame to it. Who wouldn't be?" He licks up along Ossë ear and Ossë laughs, slipping free of the grasp. His hair turns to water, just for a split second, and it strikes Mairon's face in little droplets as he looks back down at him. Now, though, his look is different. It's not a challenge but an excitement that makes his face glow.

Mairon snarls and takes a fistful of his hair, dragging him down into a kiss.

It feels like trying to kiss a storm. Every time he thinks he has gotten half a hang of it, understood what Ossë means to do and respond to it, everything changes. Soft lips travel from his nose to his collar bones and all the places between, and he tries desperately to control the wildness suddenly in his arms. But Ossë is taller and stronger, and he has no way to keep him still should he wish to move, and it's exactly why he has never before wanted to do this and also why he now suddenly _aches_ for it.

And then a large hand takes hold of Ossë's jaw, strong and commandeering, and both of the Maiar make a wounded sound in unison. Melkor leans in close, almost as close to Mairon as Ossë is, and his expression is live fire and deadly glee.

"Now, now, my storm," he whispers. "Let Mairon enjoy you the way he prefers it. You are so wild, you might _frighten_ him."

To show he is not daunted in the _least_ , Mairon attacks immediately, kissing Ossë, showing them both that the way _he_ prefers it is a slow exploration against cool skin, almost hinderingly fresh, a sweet promise behind every little drag of lips against lips. And Ossë squirms and moans but never breaks loose nor pushes Mairon away -- because he likes this, Mairon understands, he likes being contained on his own terms. And Melkor, Melkor is watching them and Mairon feels dizzy with the knowledge that for once, he is the one being observed as he kisses another.

When he pulls back a little, just to breathe air that he doesn't need and to look them both in the eye, Melkor grins.

"I think we should sit down," he says. Mairon obeys immediately, and Ossë right after. He seems dazed and needy, and the thought that Mairon is a reason for that...

Melkor sits with them, still behind Ossë, and Mairon wishes he was in those strong arms instead of Ossë, who probably doesn't even appreciate the simple _kindnesses_ Melkor bestows upon him.

"I think I shall lay down," Melkor says and strokes Ossë's hips. "I would not neglect you, my beautiful Mairon, but I still owe Ulmo's little troublemaker something."

"Yes, you do," Ossë laughs and shuffles closer to Mairon, now asking for a kiss. Mairon feels a mischievous energy that rarely strikes him, and he puts a finger on Ossë's lips.

"Nicely," he says as Oromë says to the hounds he trains, and Melkor chuckles as he reclines, decadent, to better watch them.

"Of course," Ossë says clearly without meaning it and then they're kissing again.

It's a better kiss than the first or the second. Ossë is less restrained, yet something remains, and Mairon can take control without fighting for it tooth and nail, enjoy the feeling of Ossë melting against him and putting all of his considerable passion into the movement of their lips against each other, the tug of teeth and the swipe of tongue, the nails on Mairon's back and the fingers on his thigh. Mairon has been semi-hard for most of the scene, yet now long fingers stray and stroke him until he grows fully erect. And that is precisely the point when Melkor pulls them apart with nothing but words.

"Do not forget me," he says with a smirk on his face, and Mairon feels his mouth hang open but cannot do much to look less ridiculous. Melkor is gorgeous, gloriously naked and self-assured. His dark hair falls over one shoulder and his eyes twinkle with humour.

"Never," Mairon lets slip. It's too earnest. Ossë might not notice, but Melkor will.

He doesn't put it into words, however -- he tugs at Ossë's loose pants and huffs.

"Really, clothed again?"

"I wish not to frighten our friend," Ossë says, mocking both Melkor and Mairon, but lets the cloth dissolve into water ere he takes his spot in Melkor's lap and glances back at Mairon with a smug smile.

"Do you leave puddles indoors, too?" Mairon asks sourly as he divests himself of his shirt the _regular_ way.

"What, _indoors?_ " Ossë asks and gyrates his hips, disgustingly attractive. "The entirety of Eä to play with, and you think you'd ever find me _indoors_?"

Mairon might have retorted something, but Melkor is effective at controlling the two of them, clearly, since he only needs to press a finger onto Ossë's lips and give Mairon a meaningful look to have them ready and willing to obey him. Even Ossë looks subdued.

"I would have you both," Melkor says softly. "I am selfish, after all -- I do not wish to choose between two beautiful Maiar if I can have both. You need not fight each other for my affections."

"Indeed!" Ossë laughs and shifts his hips. "For you are very free with them. Lady Varda seems the only one immune to your charm." He licks his bottom lip and puts a hand behind himself to guide Melkor back into him, but Melkor seizes it and presses it against his back instead.

"You are not behaving _nicely_ ," he says. "Mairon, would you not aid me in showing him the meaning of patience?"

Eager for what that might entail, Mairon obeys the summons and takes Ossë's wrists into his hands, holding him in place as he assumes he is meant to do. Melkor laughs and shakes his head.

"Polar opposites, you two are," he says. "Ossë, always pushing limits and flaunting his confidence -- and you, Mairon, ever ready to serve and take what you think is your due place." He chuckles a bit more and then shoves Ossë. "Get off my lap, make space for Mairon."

Ossë groans and rolls his eyes but doesn't protest more. As Mairon lets go of him he obediently raises himself up onto his knees and indeed gets off Melkor's lap to sit next to him, legs loosely crossed.

"Used to this, are you?" Mairon dares to ask smugly, pretending he's not trembling with excitement and elation as he removes his trousers and claims the contested spot. "Does Ulmo often need to punish you?"

"Oh, all the time," Ossë says but his eyes glint dangerously. "But only if we both enjoy it. The Lord of Waters does not strive to _hammer_ all his Maiar into the same, boring mould."

"Enough," Melkor says. "Make your tongue more useful, I believe our little flame needs to be prepared for me."

Ossë grins and sticks out his tongue -- it's much longer than would be practical and narrows into a point at the end. Mairon shudders involuntarily.

"Useful, I said, not pretty!" Melkor laughs. "Come on. Mairon, push your hips back, just so... Good."

Mairon lets them place him how they wish: he ends up on his knees above Melkor, back curved down and elbows against the grass. He is close enough that he and Melkor could kiss should he lean just a bit lower. Ossë touches first his lower back, then the insides of his thighs, then his hot and heavy cock. But it seems that impatience takes him over, because very quickly, Mairon feels hands reveal his entrance and a thin tongue lick across it.

He groans and Melkor raises himself up to a kiss. Ossë's tongue may not be practical for most things, but it is an advantage here -- briefly, Mairon wonders why and how he _knew_ to take that shape, but he cannot concentrate on that as Ossë closes his mouth over his entrance like in a kiss, long tip of his tongue drawing soft patterns in the flesh behind his balls, hands caressing and squeezing. His saliva is very thick and very slick, and the feeling of it slowly travelling down Mairon's flesh is exquisite. Overactive as ever, his mind suggests there might be benefits to studying it, and then that wonderful tongue wriggles into him, startling all thought out of his head like a flock of starlings. He gasps and a large hand grasps his cock and starts a slow movement up and down, caressing his flesh and pulling moan after moan out of him.

The thin tongue is replaced by several thin fingers, and Mairon forgets himself as he greedily pushes back. Ossë laughs behind him and flicks a stinging jab into the flesh of his inner thigh, but it doesn't do much to restrain him.

"Put your tongue back in him," Melkor says, still sounding cool and collected. "Let him fuck your face as he wishes. He has been so good, hasn't he?"

Mairon cries out at that and Melkor slows down the movement of his hand to a stop, giving him a much-needed reprieve. He doesn't wish for this to end before the main event.

Ossë seems a bit reluctant but obeys after a few moments, again opening his mouth against Mairon and pushing in his tongue, deeper than before. Mairon sighs and rolls his hips back, experimenting until he finds an angle that _really_ feels good. Ossë makes a small sound and tries to move away, but Melkor leans over Mairon to push him back.

"Be a good little Maia for us, now," he says and lifts his knee to nudge Mairon's cock. "Take a page from Mairon's book. He's always so well-behaved."

Mairon moans and pushes back, caught between the wonderous sensations. On one side, he has Ossë and his tongue, striking deep inside him, and on the other is Melkor, a steady force right in front of him, a surface he could easily rub himself off on. But he doesn't _want_ to.

"Stop, please," he manages and Melkor's knee retreats an inch.

"Yes?" the Vala asks smoothly. "Do you wish to come on my cock instead?"

Mairon moans and his hips move on their own accord. He nods, unable to even vocalize a "yes, I do". Melkor watches him for a moment, lazily tracing his face with painted fingernails.

"Your wish is my command," he finally says with no small amount of humour. He apparently releases Ossë, because the wetness and warmth disappears. Melkor looks them over and then locks eyes with Ossë. "Come here, prepare me."

Ossë hesitates. He is very close, close enough that Mairon thinks he can feel the long strands of his hair, but he doesn't move.

"Are you being difficult on purpose?" Melkor asks with a sigh and sits up, forcing Mairon to follow, then to get off his lap. Now that Mairon can hazard a glance at the other Maia he can see that Ossë's cheeks are burning with a feverish hue, lips swollen and parted, eyes half-lidded. He looks, well, he looks a lot like Mairon imagines he himself does. But his beautiful lips pull into a cocky grin anyway.

"What if I am?" he asks in his melodious voice. "However shall you punish me?"

"I think the best punishment for you is to leave you unheeded," Melkor says silkily and crooks one finger, calling the water spirit forth. Ossë obeys the gesture slowly and Melkor strokes his face. "Is that a risk you are willing to take?"

"No," Ossë says softly. Melkor raises a brow -- Ossë glances away and amends: "No, my lord."

"Then prepare me for Mairon," Melkor murmurs, now tracing his lips with a thumb. "Or I shall send you back to Ulmo unfulfilled and bound, and you shall have to explain to _him_ how insolent you have been. See if he will be more merciful."

For a moment, Ossë seems undecided, weighing how serious the threat is. Mairon almost wishes he would keep being rebellious and obstinate as is his wont and be sent well away, but finally he finally bows his head and crawls to settle between Melkor's legs. He opens his mouth and offers himself to Melkor -- Melkor grins and takes hold of his hair.

"Put your mouth to use," he says.

"Would you not kiss me?" Ossë asks, suddenly surprisingly vulnerable. Melkor laughs and Mairon feels a stab of sympathy: he knows how it feels to be dismissed by this radiant being.

"I'll decide after you obey even one of my orders without trying to wrest control back," Melkor mocks and slaps Ossë across the face -- not too hard, but not gently either. Ossë moans softly and lowers his head to take Melkor's cock into his mouth. Mairon watches, bizarrely jealous again as Melkor is being serviced, yet glad for the pause that gives him some time to compose himself so he won't explode as soon as he is touched again. Melkor lets Ossë work on his own pace, only petting his hair and twirling it into little curls, pointedly ignoring it when the Maia glances up and tries to catch his eye.

"May I?" Mairon asks suddenly and reaches out towards Ossë. Two sensations are warring within him: on one hand the feeling of smugness that he is the object of Melkor's attention instead of the other Maia, and also the empathetic part of him that recognizes himself in those pleading looks.

"Of course," Melkor says. Ossë doesn't say anything, but Mairon assumes it's okay: he shuffles closer to also feel that long hair between his fingers and to touch smooth, cool skin. And Ossë turns his head minutely, clearly enjoying the attentions. His eyes close and he pushes forward until his nose is firmly pressed against Melkor's skin, and yet Mairon is the one who moans.

"Good," Melkor says hoarsely and caresses Ossë's face. "Pull back now, little thing, and sit next to us. I promise you will get your turn."

As Ossë retreats, Mairon moves back in, ever at the beck and call of the Vala. He catches a glimpse of Ossë: his eyes are glistening and a thin strand of saliva, snapped due to him pulling away from Melkor, clings to his chin before he wipes it away. Perhaps the reason why Mairon dislikes him so is that he is so effortlessly, unsettlingly beautiful. He is hard to put into a box. He is coarse and violent, yet also graceful and gentle -- his fana is unlike the image of the Firstborn, yet close enough to unsettle Mairon.

"Do you want him instead of me?" Melkor asks. He is joking, that much is clear, but Mairon feels a sudden rush of energy.

"I cannot have both?" he asks.

Melkor's laughter is radiant, refreshing; it's like sweet apple wine on a lazy day. Mairon feels his lungs shudder to pull that sound in and absorb it. How can anything be this beautiful?

"Of course you can," Melkor says and his expression is mischievous and utterly delighted. "You can have anything you ask for. Where would you like him? However, I shall reserve my right to this." And he puts both his hands onto Mairon's arse. Mairon groans and glances behind himself.

"I... I want his mouth."

"How sweet," Melkor coos. "I saw you watching him service me earlier. I would have not thought you would have the courage yet to ask this of me, but I am glad you did. Turn around."

He obeys, somehow able to meet Ossë's eyes and turn his chin up in a defiant, dignified gesture. Ossë looks a bit angry, actually -- he's clearly not pleased with being treated thusly, as though he is an item to be borrowed and handed out as a reward. Mairon smiles and bites his lip, parts his thighs and sets himself more firmly in Melkor's lap. Melkor sits up and he can feel the warmth press against his back.

"Well?" Melkor says silkily, a threat thinly vailed behind his pleasant tone. "Are you going to deny Mairon his prize?"

"No, lord," Ossë says but his lips are pouting. Mairon dares to reach out and take hold of his hair to draw him closer. And Ossë allows him, crawling over until he is right in front of Mairon. They lock eyes for a long moment and Mairon again refuses to be the first one to back away. Then Ossë's long tongue swipes across his lips, wets them, and looks down and away, and the strange _energy_ surges through Mairon again. He pulls the other Maia closer, watches his lips part -- and stops him there, right there, not an inch between them.

"Get down," he hisses and spits into Ossë's mouth before releasing his hair and slapping him.

Melkor laughs as Ossë recoils and splutters.

"My little _torturer_ ," he says and kisses Mairon's cheek, hands creeping down to stroke his hips. "Little _sadist._ You have hidden depths to you."

Ossë gives them one last cautious look and swallows, bowing down to nudge Mairon's cock, then lick it, and it seems that he is regaining his equilibrium because he is definitely putting on a show, eyes almost shut and back daintily arched. But Melkor doesn't let Mairon enjoy the sight in peace: he presses him forward until he is kneeling over Ossë and frees himself from beneath them, pressing right behind Mairon but not _into_ him, and Mairon groans.

"Please," he says.

Ossë takes him into his mouth almost at the same time as Melkor pushes in, and he moans from the feeling: he is so stretched all of a sudden, Ossë didn't prepare him enough to help him take this easier, and Melkor doesn't let up, pulling out only to push back in a little further, getting him used to the feeling. Ossë's mouth is somehow hot even against his fire spirit skin, and he tries to keep his hips from twitching -- not for Ossë's benefit but for himself, scared of pushing himself too far too fast, of causing pain to his body.

But the mouth on his cock helps him stay so aroused he might cry, even in spite of the sudden pressure against his _insides_. And when Melkor's hips finally press against him and he is _full_ of that marvellous cock, he is panting and trembling -- and when Melkor starts moving, he _unravels_.

The rhythm Melkor sets for them is overwhelming, and he is jostled forward with every thrust, and now Ossë takes him into his throat and he is _gone_.

Melkor bites his neck. He keens, tries to hide it behind his hand, and has his arm twisted behind his back.

"Do not deny me your beautiful noises," Melkor hisses into his ear. He doesn't sound unaffected either. "Aren't you mine?"

"Yes," Mairon moans, not even sure what he is saying yes to.

"You're mine."

"Yes!" Mairon cries and the next time Melkor stabs deep into him and Ossë takes him deep into his throat he cannot hold back anymore. He bows into himself, hips moving erratically and without his consent, and comes so hard it blinds him.

Melkor's glad, light laughter follows him through it, and he shudders as he falls down from the high. Ossë pulls back and Melkor pulls out, and he is cold for a moment until Melkor embraces him and pulls him to sit back. In front of him, Ossë is wiping his mouth, looking at them from under his lashes.

Mairon breathes for a moment and then turns to look at Melkor.

"You didn't--"

"Do not worry yourself about that," Melkor murmurs into his ear and kisses his neck. Then he hums and hooks his chin over Mairon's shoulder. "Do you think your Maia friend has been good enough for a reward?"

Ossë keeps his eyes down, clearly not willing to lose his chance. Mairon sighs softly and reaches out. He tilts Ossë's head up and puts a thumb between his lips, opening his mouth. He has decided he likes this position: the favourite of a cruel master, the only one who can gain rewards without trouble, one who can affect his lord's choices.

"I think so, yes," he says. "Look how beautiful he is."

Ossë holds his gaze, but there is no challenge in his eyes anymore. Melkor's hand joins his. The Vala is larger than them both, though only slightly, and Mairon revels in being contained in his warmth.

"Well?" Melkor asks. "What do we say?"

"Please," Ossë says.

"Oh, come here, then," Melkor says and pulls Mairon's hand away. "Mairon, darling, if you would..."

Mairon gives space to Ossë, out of Melkor's lap now but staying close. Ossë takes his previous place, now keeping his eyes down, obviously afraid of gaining another punishment, perhaps being left unheeded. Melkor laughs softly.

"Come now, don't look so very grim," he says and puts hands around Ossë's thin waist, pulling him closer. "This is supposed to be a reward."

Ossë sighs and tosses his hair, bending sweetly into Melkor's touch even as he still stubbornly keeps his eyes down and pouts. Mairon is starting to regret his choice: watching the object of his recent obsession touch another is not made any better by being so sated and comfortable.

Melkor's laugh is louder now and he forces Ossë to look at him, one hand on the Maia's chin and another trailing down to see if he is still loose enough from earlier.

"What can I do for you, little diva?"

"Kiss me," Ossë answers. Melkor grins and complies.

Mairon watches them with a bitter taste in his mouth and wonders if that is how he'd looked when he'd been kissed like that. He isn't certain it is: unlike Ossë, who is at the same time both wild and pliable, he is stiff and inflexible, not wont to bend like that into any kiss, even one bestowed by the Vala he is absolutely infatuated with.

But Melkor starts down Ossë's neck, sucking bruises into his skin, and Ossë sighs and moans. He is beautiful, stirring Mairon's blood something fierce, and as Melkor's fingers sink into him easily he throws his head back and cries out, musical and wild. Melkor laughs against his neck.

"What else?" he asks. "I kissed you, what now?"

"Fuck me," Ossë sighs. "Please."

"Aren't you polite," Melkor mocks and wastes no time in sinking his cock into Ossë. He groans and then turns to Mairon, eyes wild and fiery, and Mairon lets out a shuddering groan. Melkor's answering smile is downright _evil_. "Little flame. Do you want to help?"

Mairon doesn't, not _really_ , but he does want to insert himself back into the situation so he crawls closer and presses against Melkor. Melkor throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Ossë looks at him but there is no animosity in that glance, only feckless desire. Mairon leans close to Melkor and watches as Ossë rides the Vala -- it makes him feel better that even as he is not the one getting fucked, he is still the one in Melkor's arms. It, in fact, makes him feel generous enough that he licks his palm and reaches to give the other Maia a hand.

Melkor laughs shakily as Ossë cries out again. In the river close by, water splashes and rises into waves.

"I'm going to come inside you," Melkor says in a growl through his teeth. "You're going to go back to Ulmo and Uinen with my come dripping down your thighs."

"Do it," Ossë snarls and fucks himself harder on Melkor's cock, clearly intending to find completion before Melkor does -- perhaps he is afraid that once Melkor has sated his own need, he will be tossed aside. Mairon grins at the thought and entertains the idea to take away his hand and see if Melkor's cock is enough for him, but ultimately he doesn't really wish to prolong this part any longer.

When Melkor crushes him into an embrace and cries out through clenched teeth, Mairon moans and shoots Ossë a self-satisfied grin as he rubs his cheek against Melkor's shoulder. Ossë tosses his hair and quivers, and then he is coming. Melkor thrusts up into him hard -- he is practically bouncing in the Vala's lap right now, cries punched out of him every time Melkor stabs in. Mairon watches him, feeling his own cock react slightly to the sight. He pulls away his hand, now stained with Ossë's come, and touches himself gently, not intending to stroke himself into a second orgasm but simply to please himself a bit more. Melkor laughs and trails down a hand to his waist, slowing down and pulling Ossë closer. Ossë sighs shakily and cuddles up against him.

"How sweet you are now," Melkor laughs. "I'm sure everyone around wishes you were like this _all_ the time. Perhaps we ought to tell Manwë of this little trick."

"I'm plenty sweet," Ossë mutters. "When I want to be." He lifts himself and makes a noise as Melkor slides out of him.

"Salmar keeps complaining about you wrecking his shells," Mairon says. "See that he doesn't find out you can just be fucked into submission."

"I'd like to see him try," Ossë says sharply and bares his suddenly pointy teeth. He goes to move away, but Melkor pulls him back.

"Stay," he says softly. "I'm sorry for teasing you. I do not mind your wildness. Quite the contrary."

Ossë sighs and curls up into him. Mairon frowns and closes his eyes, also snuggling up into Melkor. Melkor laughs and leans back to lie down on the ground with them in his arms.

"I am very lucky," he murmurs. "To have two such marvellous creatures in my arms."

Mairon says nothing, just gets himself comfortable and drifts away.

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing tickles my funny bone more than Melkor being an unrepenting hedonist and Mairon absolutely hating it


End file.
